


In Between Days

by elisa_anya



Series: A Patient Archangel Waits. [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Destiel in the future, F/M, Lucifer/You - Freeform, lucifer/reader - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-12
Updated: 2018-02-12
Packaged: 2019-03-17 12:14:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13658769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elisa_anya/pseuds/elisa_anya
Summary: After the accident in the woods, you are left to wonder if it really was Lucifer the one who had saved you, and if it was him, then why? But as you try to look for answers, you begin to realise there's no way you can go on like before, drowning your feelings for the archangel, and you'll have to make a choice; it's either the Winchesters and Cas, or the Devil, you can't have it all.





	In Between Days

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, guys.  
> This is the 2nd part of a series with 4 chapters.  
> Hope you like it!  
> Can't make any promises on when the next parts will be posted, but I am already working on them.  
> If any of you feel like making any art for this project, by all means go ahead!

You push the covers aside and jump out of bed. You stand up too fast and the blood rushes to your head, white spots cloud your vision. Stumbling, you grab your head with one hand, resting the other against the wall to give your brain some sense of balance. You feel exhausted, like you've ran a marathon that just happened to have your bed as the finish line. You could have easily stayed in bed and fall asleep within seconds. _I'll rest later._

The bunker is completely empty, but you knew that already, the Winchesters and Castiel are most likely hurrying to your aid right now as you stumble out of your room. Your footsteps echo through the empty corridors. It gives you goosebumps, you don’t love staying there by yourself, no matter how safe you know the place actually is. In the library, you open a box you know contains prepaid phones and quickly dial Sam's number. He picks up right away. You can just imagine him, phone in his hand, waiting for Castiel to call with news of you as Dean drives at a million miles per hour, his sad puppy face constricted with worry.

"Hello?"

He sounds agitated. You can hear the loud roar of Baby in the background. There's no music playing and you know what that means; Dean's worried out of his goddamn mind. They're still on their way to the forest you told them you'd be at.

"Sam, it's me."

"[Y/N]!? Oh, thank God! Are you alright?"

"It's [Y/N]?" you hear Dean ask, nearly shouting at Sam. "Is she alright? Where the hell is she?"

"I'm fine, I'm fine," you assure them quickly.

"Kid, where the hell are you?" Dean repeats the question. You hold the phone further away from your ear.

"I'm at the bunker. And tell him not to call me kid!"

"Where is she, Sam?" Dean asks for a third time. Sam makes an annoyed noise to shut Dean up. "I’m sorry, am I annoying you? Cas calls and tells us she’s _dying_ , I was worried out of my goddamn mind, so I think I have a right to be upset! Put her on speaker, for Christ’s sake!" Dean growls with irritation.

 _Well, shit._ You’re touched, really, by how upset he is, but damn, there’s damage control that needs to be done and quickly, this is going to keep Dean on edge for days.

You hear Sam tap the screen with unnecessary force, you know you’re on speaker.

"What do you mean you're in the bunker?" the youngest brother asks. "You said you'd be in-"

"I know, I was, but then I tripped coming down the mountain and I fell, and I was unconscious for a while I think, but then I woke up in the bunker. Sam, I think I died!"

" _What?_ " Dean sounds like he's about to have a heart attack, his voice at least an octave higher than usual. The sound of the engine in the background stops; they've pulled over. "[Y/N], what the hell are you talking about?"

You think quickly, wondering how much of what had happened you should explain to the brothers... How much of what you can remember is even real? How can you be sure that what you think happened _actually_ happened? After all, what were the odds that Lucifer really did come and saved you, and put you to bed and all? The idea was ludicrous, most likely something made up by your delusional, dying brain...

But the memories feel real. He had felt real, the skin and the soft prickle of his stubble under the gentle touch of your fingertips had felt real. The snow coming down to rest on his hair and shoulders in slow motion had seemed real. The absolute silence, except for your heart beating in your ears and his breath of you face, you remembered it like it had been real. The way his gaze had made your inside flutter had felt real. The kiss... That sweet, wonderful kiss _had_ to be real, _oh, please, God, let that have been real,_ you pray, though not without a mountain high of mixed feelings.

And how else had you arrived safely home if not with the intervention of an angel? The only angel that would go to your aid like that was Cas but he couldn't fly anymore, so there was no way it'd been him. Why would another angel help you? _And yet, why would Lucifer help me?_ you argue. The possible answer suggested very shyly by the back of your mind makes your heartbeat’s pace quicken again.

You swallow hard before you open your mouth to speak, to lie. "I'm not sure, I just- I woke up here just a couple of minutes ago, I don't know how I got here."

There's a couple of seconds of complete silence.

"But you're fine then?” Dean asks, sounding relieved but still cautious. “You're not... dead, anymore?"

"I’m not a ghost calling from the bunker, if that’s what you mean,” you roll your eyes at no one.

“You're not injured?” Sam says.

“I am perfectly healthy, just super tired."

You hear someone sighed. You can practically see them exchanging confused but relieved looks.

"Okay. Then... We'll be back soon," Dean says.

"Take some rest, we'll let Cas know you're fine," Sam continues.

“That’s it?” you say before you can help yourself, mostly to yourself, thinking out loud. It’s an annoying habit you have. “You’re not going to… I don’t know. Scold me?” you huff a laugh, you’d imagined him doing it in so many different ways and now nothing. “Or like… Ask anything else? I _died_. Did you not hear that?”

“Oh, yeah, you’re grounded forever,” Dean says, tone completely serious.

“What do you mean, _grounded_? I’m not a fucking child, Dean!” you yell at the phone, but you’re not really angry, and he knows it.

“Then don’t do stupid, rookie mistakes, [Y/N]! You got yourself _killed_! Do you have any idea what you’ve put us through! You’re lucky you’ve got an angel watching over you, apparently!”

“Well, what did you expect me to do? Sit around at the motel having pizza while the wendigo ate those kids? You would have done the same!”

You hear Dean taking a breath, reading himself to keep going, but Sam interrupts him. “Will you two stop bickering at each other? Jesus!” Sam takes a deep breath and sighs. You and Dean keep quiet. “[Y/N], the important thing is you're back home safely, we'll figure out the rest later, okay?"

You sigh. “Okay.”

And you try to figure it out, all of you do, but the answer to this mystery keeps eluding you. You ask Crowley if he had had anything to do with it and he tells you he didn’t. Cas speaks with an angel, asks if they knew of anyone that might have saved you, but they say no as well. Nobody is guilty of saving you and the Winchesters don’t seem to really care as much as they do about the fact that you were back, perfectly safe and sound.

“Look, kid, so someone or something brought you back,” Dean tells you when you complain about him not taking this seriously, “I ain’t complaining, I’m just happy to have you back.”

Dean gives you an earful about going out on your own like that too, his speech going hilariously similar to the way you’d imagined it would. Afterwards, he gives you a tight hug, nearly breaking you in half. Cas has a talk with you too, tells you he had heard your prayer and it had upset him deeply. He had felt your thoughts losing coherence, getting blurry, sloppy; you had indeed been dying or entering a state of deep unconsciousness.

Weeks after the accident, you’re the only one who apparently needs to know what had happened.

 _You know what happened,_ a side of you tells stubbornly.

 _But it's impossible_ , another side of you argues.

 _You’re a_ hunter _, the word ‘impossible’ has no meaning to you anymore!_

Not a day goes by that you don’t think about Lucifer. You’re so sure your beautiful new memories of him are real but at the same time you’re terrified to admit that to yourself, your weak heart afraid to take such a big leap of faith, to hope for something so big, so insane. But what if you really kissed him? What if he truly saved you? And why, why would he do any of that? Why hadn’t he just let you die? Why had he saved you and then just stayed away from you? You owed him, wouldn’t he want to use that against you? The only way to get any confirmation was to talk to him, but how? And did you even want to? What if you summoned him and he smote you in the spot?

_He won't. He won’t hurt me. He wouldn't do that._

You are sure of that. You don't know why but you're sure he won't hurt you. He has never done so before, it's a matter of statistics, you tell yourself, but it’s not just that. It’s a fact, an universal truth without any reasonable explanation; he has never and _will_ never hurt you just like you can’t hurt him. You know why you can’t hurt him, but could his reason be the same?

It’s slightly cold outside the bunker, but you need the fresh air to think. Out here in the woods, it’s a little creepy, but you don’t mind the dark. You look up at the stars, playing with the bottle of beer in your hands, you back against the door of the bunker. It’s the fourth bottle of the night and you’re a little drunk, but it’s okay, you need it to do what you’ve been thinking of doing.

You take an unsure breath in. Your eyes wander around the darkness, half expecting to see him there.

“Lucifer.”

You don’t speak his name without a little hesitation, but then again, who calls the devil himself with a 100% confidence of what they’re doing? Still, there’s a sweetness in your voice when you say his name.

Nothing happens, nobody comes. You blush, feeling stupid, but you call his name again.

“Lucifer,” you try again. You sit up, bite your lip for a moment. “I remember. I- I know you can hear me. I just- I just want to talk. I want to know why… Why did you save me?”

He watches you, standing not too far from where you’re sitting. There’s no need for him to hide in the dark, you wouldn’t be able to see him even if he were standing right in front of your face.

“I don’t know why I saved you,” he says, though you can’t hear him. You sigh, looking down at your hands, emptying your bottle of beer. “I just couldn’t let you die.”

“Please, just tell me why…” he watches you run a hand through your hair like you do when you’re nervous. You’re moving your foot impatiently, tapping it obsessively against the ground. “It was real, I _know_ it was real, I know it was you…”

He sighs. What can he say? He shouldn’t even be here in the first place but he had opened a door that led down a path with no return the night he saved you. Lucifer hadn’t even hesitated when you called his name minutes ago, he’d come right away. But he stayed hidden, as always. It was better that way, he convinced himself, for both of you.

“What do you want me to say? It’s better this way, if I stay away,” he says, who knows if to you or to himself. “You and I… It can’t be. You’re a hunter, I’m the King of Hell. We’re like water and oil, kid, can’t mix.”

“I feel like I’m going insane,” you whisper to yourself, both hands in the side of your head now. “Is that why you did it? To mess with me?”

“No, not to mess with you. But of course you'd think that, because I’m _evil_ , right?” he rolls his eyes at you. “Jeez, you try to start the apocalypse _once_ and no one will let it go! I haven’t started another one, in case you all haven't noticed. But does anyone thank me for that? No!”

You jump to your feet, clenching your teeth with force, biting back tears.

“Fine!” you yell into the dark. “Fine, I can give you the silent treatment too, if that's how you want it! We'll see how you like it!”

Lucifer scoffs, a smug smile spread across his face. “Yeah, darling, like I’m going to be around anyway.”

But he is, you can tell. Strange things begin to happen around you, when you're out in hunts by yourself or even with the Winchesters. A rare, miraculous strike of luck follows you around the country whenever your life seems to be in real danger.

The first time you notice the uncharacteristically fortunate turn of events is when you are by yourself dealing with a ghost. It turns out the abandoned house you ended up in has more ghosts than you'd come to deal with. You ace the first one, burning the painting that is connecting it to this world. You watch it burn as you catch your breath after fighting the goddamn thing. The second ghost catches you by surprise, throwing you across the room and against a wall, away from your gun and the salt. You look up from your place in the ground, trying to figure out how to get to your gun around the ghost or where the hell its bloody bones or whatever is keeping in grounded to this life could possibly be. You’d had no idea about this second entity. It’s a particularly terrifying one, approaching you with its arms stretched out towards you, when suddenly the old wooden floor underneath you gives away. With an undignifying cry of surprise, you collapse onto the basement floor. It takes you a moment to pull yourself together and get to your feet. When you realise there’s an old skeleton lying on the ground, you jump back, startled. Yes, you’ve seen your fair share of decomposed bodies and skeletons, but that doesn’t make them any more pleasant to come across with. You spot your can of oil just a couple of feet away from you, and at the time you simply figure with a triumphant smile that it must have rolled away and fallen into the basement as well. It’s a long shot, but you cover the skeleton you’ve just found in oil in a second and throw you lighter on top of it. It works right away, you can hear the evil, old spirit cry from the other floor as it burns and disappears.

You don’t make much of it this first time or the second time, when a vampire nearly has you for dinner. You and your adoptive brothers are hunting a large nest of them. The group is more numerous than expected, and Sam and Dean get caught. It’s up to you to save their asses, not the first time you have to either. You get to them in time, before anyone as bitten them or killed them, but you have to fight two vampires to get to them. You kill one but your arm is injured, making you easy pray for the second one. Just as the thing is hovering over you, hungry eyes looking down upon you with its fangs drawn out, Sam’s cuffs miraculously finally break in half, and he kills the dreadful monster before any more harm is done to you. After that, the brothers take care of the rest of the vampires.

It’s after the third, fourth, fifth time and so on that you start to get suspicious; this is so unlike you, so unlike the Winchesters too. Yes, you’ve won fights before just by mere chance, managed to kill off the bad guy at the very last minute, but this is different, this is _too_ lucky, and it always happens around _you_ and not the brothers, the strike of luck doesn’t follow them if you’re not there. You also notice they get hurt more than you, and not by lack of opportunities. Things just seem to work out in the end before any major harm comes your way.

“Don’t complain, you’ll jinx it,” Dean teases you when you mention this weird series of events.

You roll your eyes at him. It annoys you that he’s not taking it seriously. Sam seems more curious, but neither he or Castiel ever continue the subject when you bring it up. It’s like they all agree they’d better enjoy it while it lasts, no questions asked.

“Hey, so you’re safer than usual, [Y/N]. I ain’t gonna complain about it,” is all Dean says, shrugging the subject off as he looks around the bar, trying to catch a hot date.

It gets to your nerves that no one is taking you seriously. First they don’t care who brought you back from the dead, now they don’t even seem interested in knowing who’s helping you stay alive or why. You have an idea of who this is about, of course, but you never share your suspicions with them. If they seemed a little more interested, maybe you would (but also, maybe you wouldn’t).

“I’m walking back to the motel,” you announce just as Dean orders another round of beer.

“I’ll walk you,” Cas offers, standing up at the same time you do.

“I don’t need a bodyguard, Cas. And anyway, apparently I already have one, not that any of you care.”

Instantly, you feel bad for treating your friend that way but at the same time you can’t help thinking he deserves it. You wish you could cause a reaction out of them, annoy them into caring, but they just don’t. Or so you think.

Sam watches you leave, waits until you’re out of the door to turn to Dean.

“We should tell her, Dean,” Sam tells his brother, his mood suddenly changing into a somber one.

“No, we’re not telling her,” Dean states, not leaving any place for discussion. “We’re going to hunt Lucifer down and find out what the hell he wants with her. Maybe he’s got her under some kind of spell, I don’t know.”

“It’s not like that,” Cas says. He’s told Dean before, the way he’d heard you call for Lucifer had been honest and natural and with a longing that worried him deeply.

“Well, I don’t care what it’s like,” Dean shoots back, “but I’m not letting him come close to her, or the other way around. He’s done something to her, and now he’s, what, following her around? What for? He wants something from her, and I’m gonna find out what.”

“He’s been protecting her,” Castiel points out, lost in thought. “What if he just… wants _her_?”

“What for, to love and cherish her forever?” Dean mocks him, rolling his eyes. “He’s _Lucifer_ , Cas, he’s not _capable_ of love. He toys with people, uses them and hurts them. I’ve lost enough people, I’m not letting him get to her. And you’re not telling her anything we know,” he tells Sam, pointing a finger at him with his eyes narrowed. “If he’s managed to somehow get to her, trick her into having feelings for him, this will only hurt her, she can’t know we’re going to kill him.”

“What if it’s not a trick, Dean?” Sam argues. “What if she really just has feelings for him?”

“Did you _not_ hear me say it’s _Lucifer_?” Dean is nearly yelling now, looking back and forth between his brother and his best friend as if he can’t believe they’re even having this discussion. What even _is_ the discussion, anyway? They should kill the Devil as soon as possible, as they’ve been trying to for a long time before [Y/N]’s incident on the forest.  “You really think she’d fall for that piece of shit, of all people?”

“You know how she is, she’s always trying to see the good in people. She told me once, she pities him, the way God threw him into the cage to basically rot.”

“Okay, let’s say somehow she _did_ fall in love with the Devil. You want to send her off with him? Pack her a bag and wish her good luck, visit her on Christmas and exchange presents with the guy? I’m sorry if I want the threat eliminated a.s.a.p., because that’s what he is. She’s still young, Sam. She’ll forget him, and she can still get out of hunting, have a life, meet a guy that loves her, have a family. And he- he doesn’t have anything to offer her, not even love like she deserves.”

Lucifer’s heard enough. He could smite Dean on the spot, but he doesn’t. Instead, he turns away and goes to you when he senses you’re in danger. Two men have been following you in the deserted streets. You walk fast through the dark, your hands in your pockets. You are ready to draw your gun at any moment now, the idiots don’t know who they’re messing with; a _very_ pissed off hunter. You turn around the corner of the street and wait there with your gun drawn, just waiting for the two creepers to jump you. But they never do, and suddenly you stop hearing their footsteps at all. Cautiously, you turn back around the corner of the street and gasp; they’ve disappeared. No way they ran back that long street in just a couple of seconds, and why would they, anyway? They hadn’t seen you as a threat but as a target.

“It’s you, isn’t it?”

No one answers, but you know he’s there, watching you, you can almost _feel_ him, feel his eyes on you.

“I thought you said you were giving me the silent treatment,” he says. He’s got to admit it, he’d been waiting for you to break and talk to him again, and not just because he found it amusing but because Lucifer _wanted_ you to talk to him. Still, he always remained hidden, your ears as usually deaf to his voice as ever.

“What’s the point of this?” you ask, sighing. “I don’t get it. Are we friends now? What the hell’s going on? Why are you helping me?”

It’s his turn to sigh. “I can’t help myself, I feel you’re in danger and I just- I have a lot of free time when I’m not destroying planets,” he shrugs, smiling, trying to lighten his own mood.

You look beautiful with that look of utter frustration and those tight jeans, he’s got to admit it, not bad for a hairless ape, not bad at all. If only he could reach out and touch you again... but no, Dean was right (and there’s something he’d never think he’d say!), what did he have to offer you? Nothing. Lucifer was the single most hated being on the universe, the archenemy of your family. Damn, he’s _tortured_ your brother for years in Hell. He’s an archangel and you’re painfully mortal. He’s a narcissist mess, a fallen angel that swore revenge on mankind, and you’re… you’re you. You’re just beautiful and good, so good you still somehow see something worthwhile in him. No soul has ever lit up the way yours does when you see him.

“God, your silence is so fucking annoying, you know that?” you complain, kicking the ground. “This isn’t fair, me not being able to see you!”

“Life isn’t fair, darling,” he mumbles under his breath.

“This isn’t over,” you point a finger out in no direction in particular. “I’m going to get my answers, if it is the last thing I do!”

A couple of weeks go by. You wonder if he’s there, watching you, protecting you, every time you go out on a hunt. You don’t do anything stupid to get hurt and prove that he’s there, you’re not a masochist, you avoid pain if you can. Your hunts go well, your family is safe, healthy, you should be pleased, but you’re not, something’s always missing, a longing for something not so unknown anymore runs through you to your very bones. You want to see him, just one more time at least, to hear what he has to say, to ask him why, why to a lot of things.

 _Why aren’t you here with me?_ is the main question in your mind. _Why won’t you just come to me, if you’re here anyway?_

If he will only come to you when you’re in danger, then in controlled danger you shall be. Following on Dean’s footsteps, you ask Sam to kill you.

“What? Are you insane? No!”

Sam tries to snatch the syringe from your hand, but you move quickly away before he can take it.

“Look, Sam,” you tell him with a tone that tells him you’re not taking anyone's crap today, you mean business, “you can either help me or I’m gonna pay some random person to do it for me. I’d rather it was you, okay?, here at home instead of behind some dumpster. So are you going to help me or what?”

You hold out the syringe again, the one that will bring you back to life. Sam’s conflicted face just annoys you more, but you know you’ve got him trapped; he cares too much about you to let you do something this stupid without his supervision and he knows better than to not take your warning seriously, you _will_ do this, one way or the other.

“I just want to ask the reaper a couple of questions, okay?” you lie to him, your face completely straight as you do it. It’s for his own good (and your own too, it’s easier this way), you don’t want to worry him with talk of Lucifer. “I promise, it’ll be just a couple of minutes, then you can bring me back.”

“Is this about-”

“Oh, for God’s sake, don’t be a pussy!”

You press the other syringe, the deadly one, against your chest, right through your heart, and collapse almost instantly. Sam barely has time to react and catch you before you hit the floor. He picks you up and gently lays you on his bed, nervously staring down at his watch with the good syringe in his hand. Its trembling, it will for the rest of the fucking day, probably.

“Oh, Hell, no, not _you_!” the reaper says as soon as it appears and recognises you right away. You jump back; you’d barely had any time to look down at yourself before he had appeared. “You’re going to get me in trouble!” The reaper looks around nervously as you scoff, deeply offended.

“Excuse me, _what_?”

“You’re not even really planning to die!” the reaper complains, pointing at Sam who is observing you with a constipated look of deep concern. “You and the Winchesters are a real pain in the ass, you know that, right?”

“What are you _talking_ about?” you ask, trying not to get angry because then the reaper will be even less helpful, surely. “I just wanted to ask someone something!”

“ _Just_ ask someone something?” he repeats, his voice going into a higher pitch. “You’re going to get me smitten because you _just_ wanted to ask someone something?”

“Smitten? By who?”

“By me!” Lucifer yells, snapping his fingers with irritation, causing the reaper to disappear. You jump, taken aback by his sudden appearance.

“Ha! It worked!” you grin triumphantly.

He doesn’t seem one bit amused. Lucifer looks down at Sam and asks, “is he _helping_ you with this!? I should smite him too, right now!”

“No, don’t touch him!” you yell at Lucifer, pushing him away from Sam, grabbing the front of his clothes. You don’t stop until he’s against the wall. “He’s going to bring me back, I’ll be fine!”

“ _Fine?_ You could have brain damage from lack of oxygen! Jesus, for a hunter, you’re so easy to kill!”

“Hey, this is _your_ fault, buddy!”

He scoffs, eyebrows raising in debelief. “How is you dying _again_ my fault!? I saved you the first time, you idiot!”

“Aha, so you admit it!” you grin. You’re suddenly aware of how close you are to him, your hands still fisting his shirt, holding him in place as if he could just disappear at any given moment. _He could, in fact, just disappear._

“Dear Dad, you’re so annoying, why do I even bother with you!”

“That’s exactly what I want to know!”

Your grin fades. There’s an urgency in your eyes unlike anything you’ve shown him before. Time goes by so fast and you’ve only got minutes, perhaps seconds, to get an answer out of him. Why, why is any of this happening? Why are his eyes flickering between your eyes and your lips? Why is he letting you hold him against the wall, as if your weak soul really had any power over him?

His own face is serious too. His hands grip the side of your arms, easily and slowly pushing you away from him.

“This is getting out of hand,” he says. “I see now, I should stay away from you. It was a mistake, trying to protect you.”

“No, there's no time for your bullshit, I want an answer!”

You push him toward you again, fighting his grip. You don't want to let go, not now that you have finally managed to get so close to him. You can almost see the unwillingness to let go in his own eyes, the contradiction in the way his body moves, his hands pushing you away but the rest of him leaning against your body as you press forwards.

Without really thinking, just acting out of sheer desire, you stand on the tip of your toes again and kiss him. It feels exactly as you remember and any trace of doubt about those memories of the night you died goes away. It had been real, all of it, after all, you think with relief. He had saved you and had then been protecting you ever since. The urgency with which he kisses you back gives you most of the answers you wanted to coarse out of him. Who would have guessed kissing him again was the answer?

You open your mouth and he opens his on queue to let your tongue in, in perfect synchronization. Your hands move upwards to cup his face, a thumb running gently along the line of his jaw. The tender display of affection brings Lucifer back to his senses. This is too much, not something he is meant to have, and if he doesn't put an end to it now he's going to drag you along with him down a dangerous path of suffering and endless wars. He doesn't know why you feel this way, how you can stand to be this close to him so willingly. What it is that you see on him, he can't possibly understand, you're supposed to be natural enemies. Has he bewitched you somehow, was Dean right? _He_ felt bewitched by you, soft feelings he would usually be ashamed of growing stronger within him as your lips ravaged his.

Lucifer takes your face in his hands, pulls you away softly but with determination. You try to lean forward, searching for his lips again, but he doesn't allow it.

“You must listen to me, [Y/N],” he speaks fast with a post-kiss raspy sexy voice. “You know why I saved you, I know you do. It’s the same reason why you don’t help the Winchesters hunt me. Now, you must understand why you need to stay away from me. There's no future for you with me, no life I can offer you. You're a hunter. Your family and I are natural enemies. _You and I,_ we’re enemies, [Y/N]. You are a good human, you have a beautiful soul-”

“I do?” you blush.

“That’s what you're paying attention to?” he snaps impatiently. “Humans...” he sighs, rolling his eyes.

“Don’t human me!” you protest, cheeks still burning a hot pink.

“Just listen, will you? You mustn’t come looking for me again. I can’t give you what you want. I want nothing more but to watch your world burn,” he hisses, his eyes turning cold, his hand sliding down to your neck threateningly. “I will kill your entire family without hesitation when they come for me, and you know they _will_ come for me. Do you understand that? You’ll have to choose then, it’s either them or me. I’m just getting ahead here, I know what you’ll choose, I know where your affections lay, and I’ll me damned if I let a tiny human be the death of me.”

You clench your jaw, trembling with effort as you try to master your frustration, your anger. Why does everything always have to be so complicated with him? Why does he have to threaten your family every step of the way? “No! I would never hurt you, and you wouldn’t hurt them! You could have killed Sam just now, and you didn’t! This role your Father put you in, you don’t have to go down this path anymore! You don’t have to destroy things, Lucifer! There’s no script, the Winchesters basically _broke_ the universe, so you’re free now. God didn’t put your back on the cage, there must be a reason for that.”

He laughs at you, and it’s all bad, all evil. “And you think _you’re_ the reason? You think you can tame me? Has that been your plan all along?”

His grip around your neck tightens. You stand on the tip of your toes, gripping his wrists, trying to pull him away. His eyes burn red, showing you his true nature, but you don’t let it scare you, you don’t let him fool you. A thumb draws a circle over his skin, tenderly and slowly. You ignore his threats, his anger, the evil from within him and simply say what you’d been meaning to say for a long time.

“You could stay with me, if you wanted to, Lucifer,” you whisper.

The Devil hesitates for a moment, but he pulls his hand away from your neck. You step forwards once more, rest your forehead against his, closing your eyes. Tears accumulate on your eyelashes, roll down the sides of your face. Lucifer closes his eyes, he doesn’t want to see you cry. He remains frozen in place, unable to hurt you, but unwilling to let himself get lost again in the pleasures of your body, your soul. You two aren’t even a thing and he’s hurting you already. He must go, he must leave you behind.

“Remember your place, hunter, because I’ll remember mine,” he says, voice icy cold, pulling away from you. It takes all the effort in the world to walk away from you. He looks mean, distant, and it’s hard for him to maintain the façade. He wishes he could smite you or at least forget you, but he can’t and he never will. Not killing you is the best he can offer you. There’s nothing but death for you if he chose to keep you. “Warn your brothers, I won’t spare them if they come after me again. Don’t come looking for me, [Y/N]. As long as you stay away from me, I promise I won’t hurt them.”

You reach out to touch him again but suddenly you can feel a burning pain explode inside you. Your eyes fly opened as you gasp for hair, rolling to your side.

“[Y/N], are you okay?” Sam asks, pulling you into a sitting position. He takes your face into his big hands, wipes your tears away with his thumbs. “What happened?”

You look around to the place to fix your eyes on the spot where Lucifer had been standing just seconds ago. You wonder if he’s still there, watching you, or if he’s already gone. You clench your jaw, trying to keep the tears from coming, but it’s impossible, not after everything that had just happened. You crawl into a ball, allowing the man you think of as a brother to take you in his arms and hug you. Sam doesn’t ask anything else, but holds you in silence as you cry. He’s worried sick, he knows you did not just merely spoke to a reaper, something else must have happened. That evening the tells Dean all about your little trip to the land of the dead and he is livid.

“It’s something related to Lucifer, I know, I just know it. That’s it, enough waiting around, we’re gonna gank the son of a bitch,” Dean says, his fist coming down against the table with force, making it shake. “I don’t know what he’s done to her, but I ain’t gonna let him mess with her anymore.”

It’s hard to work behind your back because you’re around so often, and it’s also nearly impossible to find Lucifer, so it takes the Winchesters and Castiel as long as a couple of months to find him. For some reason, the Devil keeps a low profile, making it extra difficult to hunt him down. If ever you find news that might be linked to him, you’re torn between your wish to find him and the responsibility of keeping your family safe, away from Lucifer. You don’t take his threats lightly, after all. You’re scared, _terrified_ of the day your family finds him. What will you do, then? Who will you choose? Will you help them or save him? Will you be able to put an angel blade through his heart if the lives of the men you’ve been living with for years were in danger?

You can’t help fearing that he’s moved on. You can’t feel him around you anymore, there’s no invisible presence following you, protecting you, and your lucky streak comes to an end abruptly after the conversation you’d had. You try to convince yourself this is a good thing; if he’s moved on, perhaps so could you… But you don’t, you can’t, you never stop thinking about him.

When Jody and Donna call for help in a case involving a rather large group of vampires, Dean asks you if you’d mind going. You’re all working in another case right now, you’ve barely even arrived to the motel and got settled, but he encourages you to assist the other two women.

“We’ll find the witch without you, don’t worry,” he tells you, “they need you more right now.”

You hesitate. You really don’t like the idea of leaving the brothers behind, unsupervised. You’ve had the strange feeling lately that they’re keeping something from you. You can hear them talking in low voices sometimes in the bunker, and they always seem to change their demeanours as soon as you walk into the room… But this hunt, it should keep them busy, you could be back fast enough to help them, probably.

So you go. The group of 3 women take quick care of the nest of monsters. You’d say they hardy needed your help, honestly, but they had thought the nest to be more numerous.

“Well, I’m glad we were wrong,” Jody tells you. “Less monsters to worry about, I guess.”

“Agreed,” you tell her, then start gathering your things around.

“You’re leaving so soon?” Donna asks you, putting her hands on her hips as she marches towards you. “Don’t you want to have a drink with us? Come on, we’ll have some girl talk.”

“I should really get back to the brothers, we were on a hunt before I came here,” you tell them. You feel a strange uneasiness being away from them where you can’t keep an eye on the pair.

“It’s just a witch, darling, they’ve had worst. Come on, one drink,” Jody tells you, rubbing your arm affectionately.

You sigh, feeling slightly guilty about your behaviour; you like them, you really do, and you don’t get to see them often, and you’re coming off as if you don’t want to go out with them, so in the end you accept. They take you to a bar and they order a round of beers, then Donna buys some shots.

“Oh, not for me, thanks,” you tell her, “I have to drive.”

“Oh, come on, stay the night!” Jody insists. “There’s plenty of room for you.”

“Don’t you get tired of living with the boys all the time? You need a break.”

“Yeah, and the girls really wanted to see you! We could all have lunch tomorrow.”

They smile and they’re sweet and welcoming, and when they insist for the millionth, you can’t help agreeing to stay. You take the shots, then more beer, then the whole night’s a blur, but you laugh and you’re pretty sure you danced at some point but you can’t remember very well. They encourage you to sick a date, dance with a guy who’s been eyeing you all night, and you’d be lying if you said you’re not dying to get laid, it’s been fucking months, but something in the back of your mind stops you from engaging in anything more than dancing, even in your drunken state. Your spirit lifts a little, welcoming the feeling of sisterhood with opened arms.

The following morning you wake up hangover but with a smile on your face. You remember you never called the boys to let them know how your hunt went, so you blindly seek for your phone until you find it on the nightstand, and check your phone for messages.

None, zero.

 _Weird._ When they know you’re in a hunt, they usually always call you afterwards to make sure you’re alright.

You call Dean to ask them how they’re doing with the witch, but he doesn’t pick up, his phone’s dead. You call Sam too, but his phone is off as well. You sit up, feeling your heart racing with nerves. _Something’s not right._

You quickly google the number of the motel you knew they were staying at, you call and ask to talk to room 9, the Winchesters’ room, but the manager says they’re gone, they left two days ago. That’s exactly when you left too.

“What do you mean, they’re _gone_?” you shout at the phone, but you know the answer already; they’ve _ditched_ you.

You jump out of bed and nearly trip and die putting your pants on as you run out of the room, phone in one hand and your bag in the other. Jody welcomes you with an innocent smile, coming at you with a plate of pancakes. Her face changes when she sees the urgency in your face.

“[Y/N], what’s wrong?” she asks, dropping her smile.

“You did this on purpose, didn’t you?” you tell her, stopping for a moment to face Jody with anger. “You didn’t miscalculate the number of vampires, you knew very well you could take care of them on your own. Did they plan this with you? Did they ask you to call me?”

Jody swallows hard. Alex, Claire and Donna come into the room, looking alarmed.

“What’s going on?” Claire asks.

“You set me up, _that’s_ what’s going on!” you yell.

“[Y/N], it’s not like that, we’re trying to protect you.”

“I don’t need you to protect me! Tell me where they are!”

“You won’t find them, their phones are off. Just stay with us for a couple of days, please?” Jody begs you.

“They’re out hunting Lucifer, aren’t they?” you ask, your hurt nearly bursting with worry.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Claire interjects.

The four women look at you like you’re a stranger. And you feel like one, you feel odd and out of place. You’ll never belong, not like before, not while you feel like this about the Devil, and it’s about time you accept it.

“I’m sorry, but I have to go, I have to find them.”

Dean’s an idiot if he thought he could go anywhere without you finding him; you put a tracking chip of Baby ages ago, mostly to be able to find them if anything bad were to happen to them, working on the correct hypothesis that Dean Winchester would never be too far from that car. You’d never thought they’d be running from _you_ , of all people, but the breach between you and your family was painfully evident now. You love each other, you do, but do you really belong with them if they don’t trust you and you can’t talk to them with honesty anymore?

You drive like a madman across the states, your heart on your throat the entire time. By the time you find them, it’s nearly too late. You burst into the room, gun with angel-killing bullets in your hand, to see Cas laying motionless on the ground and your two brothers on their knees, choking to death. Lucifer stands in front of them, looking thirsty for their blood, his hands curled into fists.

“Lucifer, stop!” you tell him.

They all look up in surprise. Dean’s eyes implore you to turn back around, leave while you can. His face’s red as he struggles to move, but the archangel keeps him in place as he continues to choke him.

“Please, stop it! Let them go!” you cry.

“I told you to keep them away, I _warned_ you!” he tells you, like all of this is your fault.

“I didn’t know they were coming, I swear! I kept them away all this time!”

“Shoot him!” Dean hisses with what little breath he’s got.

“Leave before I kill you too,” Lucifer warns you, his eyes red and menacing.

Your hand shakes, the gun pointing at him. You should pull the trigger, you should kill him, save your brothers, they’re good people… Good people who have done bad things while trying to save their own family… Just like Lucifer, although in a different, much serious scale in his case.

You drop your gun, knowing in your heart you can’t shoot him.

“It doesn’t have to be like this,” you tell him, raising your hands in a sign of surrender as your walk slowly towards him. “I choose you. I can’t hurt you,” you whisper, walking past Sam and Dean until you’re standing right in front of Lucifer. Your shaky hands go up, slowly, to rest on top of his fists. He looks at you hesitantly, but if he moves his hands, the brothers will be free and they _will_ undoubtedly kill him. “But I also choose them. Please, Lucifer,” you plead, caressing his hands softly, “stop. You don’t have to do this. Nobody’s making you do this.”

His fists shake. He wants to kill them, he wants to smite them into oblivion, but a tear rolls down your face and as his eyes follow its route down your cheek, distracting him.

“If you do this, I’ll never forgive you. Please, stop.”

Your voice is a gentle plead. It tugs at his grace, it shifts the gravity on Earth, it crushes his values, his arrogance, his hate. You look at him with hurt in your eyes, not with hate, not even after all he’s put your through. You’ve proved your loyalty, your worth, time and time again. He’s the worst and you’re the best, and yet you continue to seek him. How has he managed to enchant something so good as you?

If he does it, if he kills them, he’ll lose you forever. He still has the chance to turn this around, to be worthy of your love.

Under your gentle touch, his fists finally open up. Sam and Dean collapse on the ground, gasping for air.

“You still have to choose, me or them,” he tells you, a hand coming to rest on your cheek. His thumb wipes your tear away.

Dean raises his gun to shoot, but Lucifer’s gone.

“Fuck!” he yells, punching the floor.

You’re frozen in place for a moment, then you hurry to Cas. He’s unconscious, but alive. You sigh with relief, pulling the angel you adore into your arms. You can feel the brothers looking at you, Dean exudes anger from where he is struggling to catch his breath, but none of them dares say a word. It’s an awkward, silent ride back home. You catch the eldest brother looking at you through the rear-view mirror while you hold an injured Cas against your side. You hold tight to him, knowing it might be the last time you’ll ever get to do it if you choose to leave.

The decision isn’t hard to take. Things are as tense as ever in the bunker. Dean doesn’t speak to you. Cas is weak, debilitated by his fight with Lucifer, and Sam… Sam’s conflicted, you can see it in his eyes. He probably wants to seek peace between you and his brother, but it won’t happen anytime soon, you can tell. Dean’s angry, _hurt_ , that you put their lives in danger because you weren’t willing to kill his biggest enemy. This isn’t home anymore. You’re an intruder here, you feel unwelcomed, like a nuisance. You’ll love them forever, but it’s time to go.

It’s nearly 2 am by the time you’ve packed your bag. You want to make a discrete exit, but when you turn around, your angel friend is standing by the doorframe.

“You’re leaving,” he states.

You observe him for a moment. “I don’t belong here anymore, Cas. Please, don’t try to stop me.”

“I won’t.”

“You won’t?”

You’re not sure whether you’re relieved or hurt; does he also want you gone that bad?

He sighs and steps into the room, planting a hand on your shoulder. He looks tired, even though he needs to rest, and sad.

“I know what it’s like… to ache for someone…”

You raise your eyebrows, stunned. Cas? In love? But he doesn’t know anyone, not outside their family…

An alarm goes off in your head. “Cas,” you swallow hard, the sudden realisation hitting you, “are you… are you _in love_ … with Dean?”

He looks down, avoids the question, but his silence is enough of an answer. “I know Lucifer won’t hurt you, but… If you ever need anything, you can call me. Please, call me.”

You grit your teeth together and fight the tears as you pull him into a hug.

“I’m gonna miss you,” you sob into his chest.

“I’m going to miss you as well,” he replies, stroking your hair.

“Please, tell Sam and Dean that I… I’m sorry… and I love them. I’ll _always_ love them.”

You pull away and look up at his blue eyes for the last time in who knows how long, if not forever. He nods before kissing the top of your forehead, and then he takes a step back. You take a deep breath and then you march out of the room, out of your home, and you drive away into the night.

You know Lucifer’s not going to make this easy when you pray to him and he doesn’t respond.

“What the hell?” you say out loud. “I made my choice. Come on, now, pop in!”

But he doesn’t.

“It’s _my_ choice!” you insist. “And I choose you!”

Still, Lucifer remains invisible to you.

You know exactly how to force his hand and make him appear, although you don’t like the idea yourself; you’ve got to put yourself in danger. You drive through the desert, for hours on end, until you reach a cliff at the top of a mountain that looks down into an arid valley. It’s sort of beautiful, you think, the way the rays of sun are coming through the thick clouds.

“Lucifer, you’d better come now, or I swear, I’m gonna jump of that fucking cliff,” you say the threat into the empty air around you.

Nothing happens.

“Oh, come on, _really_? You’re going to make me go all the way to the edge? I _hate_ heights!” you complain, kicking the dusty ground underneath you. You sigh, fidgeting nervously, but then begin to walk towards the edge with resolution. At some point you can’t stand being on your feet anymore and you get on your knees, crawling the rest of the way to the edge, swallowing hard as you look down. It makes you feel sick. The view is beautiful but you don’t give a fuck, fear is blinding you to anything but the fact that you’re so fucking high up.

In the horizon, you see a storm coming. It always seems to be stormy when you’re out in the wild, which you take as a sign that you don’t belong in it, God bless cities and bars.

“I know you think you’ve nothing to offer,” you say, your hands shaking with fear, “but all I want is you. So just- just come, will you? Please?”

You get to your feet, your knees shaking. You’re afraid you’re going to trip with your own feet because of how badly you’re trembling. You decide to face the other way around, further into land instead of at the empty space now behind you because it’s messing with your heart, which feels weak and overly excited at the moment.

All of a sudden, Lucifer’s there, right in front of you, his hands on either side of his head.

“Oh, my Dad! What the hell are you doing there? Are you suicidal?”

“I hate heights, if you must know!” you say, your voice raised making you sound hysterical. “You left me no other choice, you keep ignoring my calls!”

“Well, I’m here now, aren't I?” he says. “So get away from there, you idiot!”

“No!” you declare stubbornly, pointing a finger at him. “Not until you promise you’ll stay! And I don’t just mean for this conversation, I want-”

You take a false step to the side. The earth underneath you gives in and you sway backwards. Your heart does a double take, the look of horror in your face is absolute as the blood drains from your cheeks while you feel yourself falling backwards into nothingness. You’re mute for a moment when you should be screaming. But then you don’t fall at all. He’s right in front of you in the blink of an eye, holding you in place, his strong hands grabbing your arms. You fist the front of his shirt, pulling yourself flat against him, closing your eyes as you bury your face in his chest.

“Jesus fuck, don’t let me fall,” you beg, feeling your heart racing in your throat.

His grip around your arms lightens. Slowly they move to your back.

“Open your eyes,” he orders, his tone gentle for once. You obey. You aren’t in the edge anymore, but several feet away from it. You allow your heart to go back to its normal pace, give yourself a moment to catch your breath, but you never move away from him. “I’ll neve let you fall.”

You take a deep breath and sigh, resting your head on his chest. Your hands move from his chest to his back and you remain there in silence for a moment, engraving in your memory what it feels like to be there, _really_ there for once, holding him close to you. You feel safer than ever and content, a wave of happiness running through you. You belong here, in his arms.

“I choose you,” you whisper.

“[Y/N], you could still go back,” he sighs, stroking your hair slowly, “if you stay with me… You’ll be hunted too.”

“I don’t care, we’ll protect each other.”

“You’ll never have a normal life.”

“Have you _met_ me?”

“And you’ll never have a home again.”

“Home’s when I’m alone with you.”

He huffs a laugh. “You’re so stubborn.”

“So just say yes already,” you smile, looking up as he looks down. The tip of your noses touch, you nudge his gently. “Let me… let me remind you what it’s like, to love and be loved. Stay with me. Say it. Say you’ll stay.”

You can hear the thunders in the distance. There’s something great coming, powerful and impossible to stop.

He closes his eyes, rests his forehead against yours. His lips are only an inch away from yours. You don’t ever want to be far away from them again.

“I’ll stay,” he promises.

“Always?”

“Forever.”


End file.
